Book Page Wings
by star darling xo
Summary: AU One-shot. idek. I keep writing depressing one-shots. sorry, idk what to do with my life, obviously. I tried to make it a little happier at the end.


_Even on her brightest days, She found herself at her lowest  
She Would Be above the Clouds, Then Sink to the Ocean Floor_  
_Where the Darkness would consume her.  
-MC_

**Her Book Page Wings**

_And sometimes, she just wants to die._

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A bitterly silent ride home from Coney Island is when it started.

Landscapes whiz across the window as the car speeds down the highway. The six year-old in the back seat is furiously frowning and had her arms crossed. "I can't fucking believe this!" her mom shouts. "You need to stop running off! Quit being such a psycho bitch! That's it. I'm taking you to a therapist!"

And all she wanted was some cotton candy.

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"Well I'm popular now." her best friend turns away from her. "And you're just dragging me down. Losers like you aren't allowed to hang with me or any of my friends for that matter."

She looks down at her feet. "Whatever happened to 'best friends forever'?"

The ex-best friend turns back again, her blonde hair flying through the air. "Forever just expired."

And that was when she was walked out on.

At least, it was the first.

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Sinking lower into the couch, she watches the shadows of her arguing parents, hidden behind screams of a distinguishing flame. Her eyes are wide, full of terror and fright as one jumps onto the other, sending both tumbling to the ground.

Immediately, she bolts to her parents' side shouting in between anguished sobs "Get up! This isn't the end! Get up!"

And suddenly, she's been abandoned again.

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She learns, eventually, to pretend to be okay. To fulfill everyone's expectations so they'll leave her alone and stop asking if she's okay.

"I'm fine."

How can two little words become such a huge lie? She really wants to say "I'm Depressed", "I'm tired", "I'm lonely", "I hate living", "I'm anxious", but most of all she wants to tell them

"No, I'm _not _okay."

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The blade slips into her skin so easily, it's hard to believe its her first time cutting. Blood drizzles down her forearm, a silky red. Like curtains at the theater. Like lipstick on a fifties star.

It was a deep cut, but not enough to kill her.

Just another scar to last a lifetime, except this one is physical.

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He grins and runs his fingers through his hair, as he often does, as he says those three words that every girl wants to hear. "I love you."

And then, he brushes past her to hug his girlfriend of three years. AKA: her ex-best friend. She wants to curl up in a ball and wallow, but she knows that its pointless. She can't change the boy of her dreams' mind. She can't erase everything that happened to her and make her life worth-wile. If life was that easy, her reset button would already be broken.

The sky, thick with dark clouds heavy with tears, hangs above her with an ominous glare. Why is the world so cruel? And why only to her? Why is she so alone?

And suddenly the sky begins to cry, as if it feels her pain.

But nobody really does.

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She stumbles on her shoelaces but doesn't dare tie them. How tragic would it be if she happened to fall in front of a bus?

Not very.

The school bell rings, echoing in her mind as an unpleasant reminder of responsibilities and work. God, she hates work.

'Effort' is something she doesn't contain. At least not anymore. Depression, oh how hard it makes things already. She shouldn't have to deal with anything. Not School, not chores, not errands and certainly not Depression.

But no, she has to suck it up and gulp down her pride to satisfy society.

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Foster house to foster house. And yet, everything is always the same. She's always questioned and interrogated and she just wants to be left alone. She wants someone to be okay with her. She wants to be accepted for her crazy, messed up life. She wants someone to not go up to her every day and say "You should stop cutting" because it just isn't that easy. She wants someone to tell her that she's sad, but that's fine. She doesn't need the "it gets better talk" because it just _doesn't get better_.

But she's not the kind of person who gets what she wants, is she?

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She writes to get away from it all. She creates her own little world to escape to and for the first time, its like she's in control of what happens in the world. Like she's the puppet master and she can have anything she wants. Then, someone snaps her back into reality and she dies a little inside.

But, she's always been dead.

They just didn't know it yet.

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She coughs and breaths in one last, disgusting breath. As she let out the carbon dioxide with a struggle, her chest clammed up and compressed and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. No one is there to protest her death. She's alone and that's how she likes it. Unfortunately for her though, paramedics bang down the door and shock her back to life.

In a daze, she's lifted onto a gurney, and being rolled out of the bedroom. She can hear the faint whispers of mocking nurses.

"Get a load of this" one says, holding up her note to the light.

_Nobody Cares Unless You're Pretty_

_or dead._

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She can already see it as she sits in her hospital bed. She can see the people pointing at her, calling her 'Stupid' 'Bitch' 'Attention-Whore' and other nasty things. She can see her ex-best friend urging them all on.

Why does life have to suck?

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In the mirror, she sees her reflection. She sees a fat girl with too-thick eyebrows, a weird chin and crooked teeth. She's always blind to the truth. At least, she's always blind to herself.

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Years go by, chasing each other like heartbeats, and she's thronged into the magical world of novelists. Her book is number 1 on the New York times and for the first time she realizes.

Her pages are her wings.

And it feels...like something to finally be free. She doesn't know what, since she hasn't felt anything in nearly her whole life.

But yeah, it's something.

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End file.
